Gentle on My Mind: In Sickness and in Health with Glen Campbell

By Kim Campbell

The page-turning, never-before-told story of Kim Campbell's roller-coaster thirty-four-year marriage to music legend Glen Campbell, including how Kim helped Glen finally conquer his addictions only to face their greatest challenge when he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease.

Kim Campbell was a fresh-faced twenty-two-year-old dancer at Radio City Music Hall when a friend introduced her to Glen Campbell, the chart-topping, Grammy-winning, Oscar-nominated entertainer. The two performers from small Southern towns quickly fell in love, a bond that produced a thirty-four-year marriage and three children.

In Gentle on My Mind, Kim tells the complete, no-holds-barred story of their relationship, recounting the highest of highs—award shows, acclaimed performances, the birth of their children, encounters with Mick Fleetwood, Waylon Jennings, Alan Jackson, Alice Cooper, Jane Seymour, and others—and the lowest of lows, including battles with alcohol and drug addiction and, finally, Glen’s diagnosis, decline, and death from Alzheimer's.            

With extraordinary candor, astonishing bravery, and a lively sense of humor, Kim reveals the whole truth of life with an entertainment giant and of caring for and loving him amid the extraordinary challenge of Alzheimer's disease. This is a remarkable account of enduring love, quiet strength, and never-faltering faith.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thomas Nelson
• Release date: Jun 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781400217847

Kim Campbell

Kim Campbell was married to legendary country/pop star Glen Campbell for thirty-four years until his passing in August of 2017, following a long and very public battle with Alzheimer's. The award-winning documentary, Glen Campbell: I’ll Be Me, shared their family’s journey with the world and opened up a national conversation about the disease. Kim’s work as an advocate for people with dementia and for their families has taken her to Capitol Hill and the United Nations, and she is the creator of a website called CareLiving.org that encourages, informs, and inspires caregivers to take care of themselves while caring for others. She also established the Kim and Glen Campbell Foundation to advance the use of music as medicine to unlock forgotten memories, restore and rebuild neural pathways, alleviate depression, manage behaviors and boost cognition. Kim is an honorary faculty member of the Erickson school of Aging Studies, University of Maryland, Baltimore County, holds a BFA from East Carolina University, and studied interior design at UCLA. To book Kim for speaking engagements, go to apbspeakers.com.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

My Life with Glen

Glen and I loved dancing together. I loved how he held me in his arms. I loved how we moved as one.

You’re the dancer in the family, he told me. I’ve spent my whole life on the bandstand, singing and playing my guitar, watching other folks dance. I never had the chance to dance.

You’re a good dancer, I assured him. If you forget what comes next, just follow me. And he did. Glen danced through life with me for thirty-five years. Sometimes he led. Sometimes I led. It didn’t matter. When God brought us together, we became one flesh (Mark 10:7–8 NIV).

Glen knew that dancing was not only my passion but my therapy. At the most challenging moments of my life, I turned to dance to express myself and work through my pain. I asked God to transform my grief into motion and cover me with joy. Each time, my prayer was answered. The poetry of Psalm 30 sprang to life: You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing (v. 11 NLT).

As a young woman, I began my professional life as a dancer, not realizing that there is something healing—even sacred—about bodily movement attuned to music and tempered with grace.

To be filled with grace is evidence of God’s holy presence. At times of great suffering, it’s easy to lose awareness of that presence. Dancing always brought that awareness back.

For me, the dance metaphor goes deep. For this story, the dance metaphor is necessary. I say that because, although life with Glen entailed monumental struggles, those struggles were ultimately mitigated by movement. I came to learn that love, like dance, is all about movement. Love is never stagnant or motionless. It bends, bows, and stretches. It expands and grows. Its essence is flexibility. Its beauty is divine. As a source of inspiration, dance strengthens me.

Enduring the enormous challenges placed before me required inspiration. That inspiration is rooted in love, but a love that can adapt to changing circumstances—a love, like dance, that is supple, and yes, a love that is divine.

As you will soon see, this story is shaped by extreme emotions—fear and hope, pain and jubilation, despair and gratitude. If I write from a gentle place, it is only because I serve a gentle God who has given me the grace to put pen to paper and share with you a journey that has brought me closer to him. And a goodbye that keeps Glen by rivers of my memory, ever smiling, ever gentle on my mind.

CHAPTER 1

UNPREPARED

It

was my first and only blind date. I was blind to the excitement surrounding the man I was about to meet. He was blind to the young woman he had been told was attractive. I remember the date—May 28, 1981—because it looms large as the moment my life changed forever.

In a few weeks, I would turn twenty-three. I didn’t know that Glen Campbell was forty-five. I didn’t know much about him at all. I knew his name, of course, but at the height of his fame, when he starred in his own national TV show, I was ten years old and only vaguely aware of him. I didn’t read the tabloids and knew nothing of his tumultuous romances and difficult divorces. I had no idea that he was fresh off a ten-month, knock-down, drag-out affair with fiery country star Tanya Tucker. Had I known, I might have bowed out before I bowed in. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. In this case, ignorance led to bliss.

The city was New York. The occasion was a James Taylor concert. James Taylor, along with the sublime Joni Mitchell, was an artist who always inspired me. The blind date had been set up through my friend Lynn Williford, whom I had met my freshman year at East Carolina University. Lynn was Miss Majorette of America and in many ways my role model. I’d been head majorette of my high school, but Lynn, with her dazzling twirls, spins, and spectacular behind-the-back catches, performed on another level. She was also stunningly beautiful—outrageously long eyelashes, big Bambi eyes, and a sweet disposition. I guess you could say Lynn and I both fit in that elusive All-American Girl category, although Lynn was in a category all her own.

At the 1981 Azalea Festival, she had been crowned Miss North Carolina, where she had the honor of introducing Glen Campbell and his band to the adoring throngs. That’s where she met Carl Jackson, Glen’s banjo player. They stayed in touch, and a few months later the Campbell crew was in New York. Lynn and I had also moved to the city where we were pursuing careers in dance. My world was ballet and Broadway, Mikhail Baryshnikov and Bob Fosse. Yes, I admit it, I loved Liza Minnelli. I also had a crazy schedule: ballet classes in the morning and dancing two shows a day with the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall. I even managed to squeeze in a jazz class in between shows. I was dancing seven hours a day. I weighed 101 pounds and ate a pint of Häagen-Dazs every day. Ah, the joys of being young!

Through Carl Jackson, Lynn made the arrangements for our date. For the first and only time, I told my dance captain I was sick and couldn’t make the evening performance. To be brutally honest, my main motivation was to see James Taylor. I was far more a fan of folk and Southern rock than mainstream country music. At the same time, I knew that Glen was a star. The prospect of meeting a star is always alluring. I was curious.

The date was unconventional, but then again, everything about my life with Glen became unconventional. Why should our first encounter be any different? Carl and Lynn took me to the Waldorf Astoria where Glen was staying with his parents. Carl said earlier that day Glen had taken his folks to see Mickey Rooney and Ann Miller in Sugar Babies. I was impressed. Glen was apparently a good son.

We went up to his suite where we waited in the lavish living room. Only a few minutes passed before he burst into the room singing Rhinestone Cowboy! Quite an entrance. Quite a man, I thought. He was tall, blond, and handsome. His sandy hair was perfectly in place. His soft beard was neatly trimmed. His light-blue silk shirt mirrored his light-blue eyes. His zippered boots were crafted of black ostrich. His voice projected an intoxicating mixture of mellifluousness and enthusiasm. When his eyes met mine, I felt myself melting—just a bit. And then a bit more when he said, Carl, why didn’t you tell me she was so pretty!

Music to my ears. It didn’t sound like a line, though. Glen sounded sincere. His sincerity, in fact, was so strong—along with his sexiness—that, while I was normally a composed young woman, I felt nervous, shy, and even intimidated.

The presence of his parents took off the edge. Like me, they came from a small country town. Down-to-earth, good-hearted folks without a bit of pretension. They made me feel safe.

Dinner at Peacock Alley, in the marble-columned, palm-tree-décor lobby of the Waldorf, was somewhat overwhelming. Until that night, the New York I knew was a city of coffee shops and delis where struggling actors and dancers like me dined on tuna fish and meat loaf. Peacock Alley was the epitome of elegant refinement. I did not feel elegant, I did not feel refined, but I did feel a magnetism coursing between me and Glen. Was I inventing that dynamic? Was I fantasizing that this man seemed to be as drawn to me as I was to him? Maybe. But maybe not. During dinner he couldn’t have been more solicitous. He peppered me with questions about my past. His queries weren’t pushy; they were genuinely sweet; he seemed genuinely interested. I wished I had known more about his career, but he was happy to keep the attention on me.

When the food arrived, Glen bowed his head and said a simple blessing. That humble gesture caught me by surprise.

With hesitation I asked Glen, Are you a Christian?

Yes, he said with a note of honest conviction in his voice.

At that moment, I flashed back to something that had happened a week earlier. I had been walking down Fifth Avenue with two girlfriends I had danced with in Disney’s Broadway show Snow White before landing my current job at Radio City. With a fairy tale involving a handsome prince in recent memory, we were wistfully wishing for a man of our dreams.

One of them offered up a prayer, Dear God, please send me my Prince Charming. The other friend looked up and said, Dear God, please send me my knight in shining armor! When it was my turn I thought about it for a minute and then half-jokingly prayed out loud, Dear God, please send me a handsome, Southern, Christian, uh let me think . . . millionaire . . . to fall in love with! Now here I was, having dinner with a handsome, Southern, Christian millionaire. Was meeting Glen a serious answer to my half-serious prayer?

It was starting to look like it, especially when we arrived at the theater where flash bulbs were popping, paparazzi were screaming Glen’s name, and fans were reaching out for autographs. Glen put his arm around me protectively and ushered me to our seats. James Taylor was great. He sang Fire and Rain, Sweet Baby James, and all his beautiful songs.

I must admit it was hard to focus on James Taylor while sitting next to Glen. Glen was six feet one, and in his younger days, he had trained to be Mr. Albuquerque; he still had that muscular physique. His deep and resonant voice commanded my attention. I was smitten with his smile, his voice, and his smell.

Afterward, Glen escorted me backstage. James greeted Glen like a long-lost friend. Glen introduced me like a newfound friend. As we walked to the exit, Glen stopped, gently pressed me against the wall, and kissed me. The kiss was long, passionate, and heavenly. I was breathless. I felt like I was dreaming. I was seated in the back of a limo when Glen kissed me again. I didn’t resist. I couldn’t resist. The lights of Midtown Manhattan illuminated Glen’s face.

This the best first date ever, he said.

For me too, I had to admit.

I’d been on many dates with surfers and frat boys. But I had never felt like I’d been with a grown man. Glen was a grown man—and then some. Back at his suite, though, the sweetness of this dream date began to sour. Glen began to drink. And drink. And drink some more. The evening, begun on a light cloud of charm, was suddenly darkening. I fought the darkness. I didn’t want to see what I was seeing. This man turned me on. I wanted the turn-on to last. I allowed a few more kisses, and yes, I was aroused. But no, I couldn’t deny that he was sloppy drunk.

Then he whispered in my ear, I want to jump your bones. I pulled back.

What? I asked incredulously, hoping he did not say what I thought he said.

I want to jump your bones, he repeated softly.

I had never been spoken to that way before. I felt vulnerable and a little frightened, alone in the room with an intoxicated, much-older man. I could see I was in a bad situation and had no business remaining there.

It’s getting late, I said

If you go home now, you’ll never see me again, he warned.

I was shocked. Right in front of my eyes, my Prince Charming had turned into a big fat toad. As for the Christian millionaire I had prayed for—without Christian values, all the treasures in his kingdom couldn’t persuade me to stay. I decided to ignore his remark and make my way to the door as gracefully as possible.

I enjoyed meeting you and your parents, I said with a smile. Thank you for the concert.

As the door shut behind me, I didn’t know what to think. He had begun the evening as one person and turned into another. Little did I know that transformation would become the central and most critical challenge of our relationship.

That first night I was convinced there would be no relationship. And yet, minutes after arriving back at my apartment, the phone was ringing off the hook.

I’m sorry, said Glen, his voice now soft and strangely sober. Maybe he had been drinking coffee. Maybe he had come to his senses. I want to see you again. I want you to know how bad I feel for the way I behaved.

What could I say? What did I say?

I said, Well, I appreciate the apology.

And I’d appreciate a second chance. Let me at least take you to dinner tomorrow night. I’ll be on my best behavior.

You better, I said, half-jokingly, half-seriously.

My head was filled with misgivings. My body was filled with longing. My spirit was filled with confusion. This man was, all at once, wonderful and bewildering. He had displayed exquisite manners and then turned vulgar. I wanted to dwell on the exquisite manners. I wanted to forget the vulgarity and simply blame it on the drinking. I wanted to accept his invitation, and I did.

When I arrived at Radio City the next day to do the matinee, the dance captain was waiting for me. From the tone of his voice, I knew I’d been busted.

Feeling better? he asked as he handed me the New York Post with a splashy photo of me and Glen leaving the James Taylor concert. The paper called me Glen’s mystery beauty. I’d be lying to say I didn’t like reading those words. Fortunately, my dance captain was a Glen Campbell fan.

Don’t’ worry, he said. All is forgiven. Anyone would be crazy to turn down a date with that man.

Relieved, I went upstairs to get ready for the show. I was just putting on my false eyelashes when the dressing room phone rang. One of the other dancers answered the phone. With a bewildered look on her face, she said, "Kim, it’s for you—it’s People magazine! They want to know about your date with Glen Campbell." None of them knew I had gone out with Glen the night before. As I took the phone, they all pressed in; they wanted to know the details.

"Yes, this is Kim. I’m a dancer here. My last name is spelled W-o-o-l-l-e-n. I’m twenty-two. Okay. Thanks!" I hung up the phone. That was it, short and sweet.

You went out with Glen Campbell? the girls pried. Are you going out with him again?

Well, we’re supposed to have dinner tonight, I said, trying to make little of it. I was afraid to make more of it in case it didn’t work out. But I realized then that dating Glen was a big deal.

After the show I hurriedly stripped off my sequins and put on a striped silk dress. The phone rang again, and the same girl answered. It’s the doorman, Kim. He says Glen Campbell is here to pick you up. All the girls rushed to the windows to take a peek. I quickly put on my heels, grabbed my purse, and rushed to the elevators to make my way down to the street. The driver opened the car door, and I slid in to sit next to Glen. He looked amazing!

Hi there, he said with a charismatic smile before kissing my hand. Thank you for giving me a second chance. I hope you like the 21 Club.

What’s the 21 Club? I asked, wondering if he was just making fun of how young I was.

It’s a famous restaurant at 21 West Fifty-Second Street, he said with a smile. The driver added that back in the prohibition era, it was a popular New York speakeasy that had since become a legendary restaurant where ambassadors dined with opera divas.

I had never been to such a prestigious and glamorous restaurant. The centerpiece of our corner table was an assortment of white roses floating in a sculpted vase. The fragrance was dizzying. The food was divine. The lights were soft. So was Glen’s voice. He drank a glass of white wine and nothing more.

Glen’s curiosity about me was undaunted. But after the tuna tartare, tortellini lamb ragout, coq au vin, English pea puree, almond strawberry cheesecake, and café latte, I felt confident enough to ask questions of my own. In these pre-Google days, there was no way to research the man sitting next to me. I knew virtually nothing of his past. As naive as my questions sounded—as naive as I was—there were things I wanted to know.

Have you ever been married before? I asked.

Unfortunately, yes, he said. Three times.

This seemed unfathomable to me, as though he had already lived three lifetimes before meeting me. I swallowed before continuing.

Do you have children?

Five, he replied.

That should have sent me running for the door.

How old are they? I gulped.

I was shocked to learn that Glen had one child who was actually older than me and that another was only a baby. If one of his children was older than me, how old was he? With much trepidation I asked, How old are you?

Forty-five. He smiled.

Forty-five sounded ancient to me. He was a full year older than my dad. I suddenly felt uncomfortable being wooed by someone that age, even if he was gorgeous, talented, and famous. The rational part of my brain was sounding alarm sirens. At the same time, my heart was making excuses and rationalizations to justify pursuing the relationship because, despite all common sense and my many misgivings, I was falling head over heels.

I didn’t know what to think. When you’re a twenty-two-year-old dancer, in love with the arts, and on a date with a famous artist lavishing attention on you, I’m not sure you’re thinking straight. Actually, I’m not sure I was thinking at all. That came later. I was feeling.

Feeling privileged.

Feeling glamorous.

Feeling light-headed.

And, of course, feeling confused.

In the limo back to the apartment, we held hands and didn’t speak. Glen was a sensitive soul, and he knew I’d need time to absorb everything I’d just learned about him. He also knew that the previous night’s drunken behavior required ongoing repair. In front of my apartment building, he leaned over to kiss me. The kiss was passionate. We were both aroused, but he backed off and simply said, Would it be okay if I called you tomorrow?

I heard his request as undoubtedly sincere. I didn’t hesitate. I said, Yes, it would be okay.

That night I tossed and turned. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever expected to date a man with five children. It was crazy. Made no sense. Was definitely a situation to avoid. And yet.

At times yet can be the most powerful word in the world. Yet I felt something in him so good, so genuine, so affectionate, so intimate, so irresistible that I found myself rationalizing.

Was it really such a big deal to be dating a man older than my father? It obviously wasn’t normal—I did not need anyone to tell me that—but maybe there were times when exceptions were understandable. I needed outside advice. Deciding I’d better talk this over with my father, I called him the next day. I felt very awkward as I

Reviews for Gentle on My Mind

[kaulsu · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

In 1968 I was living at home (with a TV) and a father who liked the Smothers Brothers comedy hour, so I was familiar with Glen Campbell. I then moved out on my own and didn't have a TV for several years.I had no idea that Campbell had a cocaine addiction, was an alcoholic, and later, suffered from Alzheimers! I gathered from the title that he had married and that his wife was writing about their marriage. This is a great book to *listen* to--the audio version includes some of his music, and his voice. Kim Campbell does a very good job in narrating the book. I was surprised at how much she and Glen were involved in their church, and their immersion into the Hebrew Bible.